


what can i do to torture these poor souls

by theGirlNightwing



Series: the devils train [4]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Demons, Dubious Consent, Kidnapping, M/M, Vampires, trainfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-06 22:31:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11610279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theGirlNightwing/pseuds/theGirlNightwing
Summary: rating and tags subject to changedrabbles and ficlets from the trainfic verse - send prompts via tumblr or the comments *fingerguns*everything is crossposted to tumblr





	1. kingbury, origins

The King sighs theatrically, glancing around the room. "You're no fun," he tells his guards. They continue standing stiffly and do not respond. 

Jefferson still doesn't trust him. The King created the Train, so he couldn't ban him from leaving it entirely - as loyal as she is to Jefferson, the King can get away with a lot more than the average being trying to leave. So Jefferson sends guards -  _ guards _ \- to watch over him. 

The King digresses. There are plenty of ripe young humans he can grab here, after all, and despite the guards not allowing him into the other place, where the  _ important _ humans are, he has a feeling he'll find a good one.

He skips into the club, ignores the looks thrown in the direction of his guards. Really, that one should know better than to smell with his tongue - reptile be damned, it's a bit creepy. 

He changed for the occasion, of course - isn't wearing the robes. He still has a relatively young face, and it's quite attractive, too. He heads to the bar instead of the dance floor, spotting a boy hiding his face in a glass of clear liquid that might be water, might be vodka. He’s always liked the shy ones…

**

Sam wasn’t expecting anything to come out of the night out. His roommate had dragged him along with a few friends to go dancing, but Sam - a bit reserved, as he doesn’t usually do this - just sits at the bar and watches as Charlie grinds his ass on some thirty-something’s groin. He wonders if he’ll see any of his professors here, then quickly squashes that thought. Best not dwell on it, yeah?

He takes another sip of his water. Yes, water. Charlie had rolled his eyes, tried to order Sam a beer, at least, but Sam just smiled tightly and slid the beer back across to the bartender. 

Speaking of the bartender. 

The guy sets a soda down in front of him, says, “club soda, compliments of that guy,” points his thumb over his shoulder, and walks away again. 

Sam eyes it warily. He heard that strangers sometimes bought drinks for people they want to pick up, but usually it’ll be alcohol. Though, alcohol is something to lower one’s inhibitions, and Sam has always been suspicious of a dude buying him into a state of less-standards. 

But club soda?

That one’s new. 

He picks it up, heads over to the guy the bartender pointed out. He’s handsome, Sam’ll give him that. Smiles when Sam sits next to him. “Figured that’d be water,” he says, and immediately something in Sam’s gut says  _ run _ but he just frowns, twists the hem of his shirt. 

“Yeah. Wanted to say thanks,” he says.

“Of course.” The guy twists to face Sam and sort of leans back, one arm on the bar. “Abandoned by your friends?” 

“Kind of. Didn’t want to dance. Not really my thing.”

The guy hums in acknowledgement. Sam gets butterflies, but tries to drown them out with a large gulp of the soda. “So, you know I’m here because of my friends. Why are  _ you _ here?”

“Boredom,” the guy says. “Looking for someone.”

“Someone in particular?” Sam doesn’t know where the urge comes from, to drop to his knees here and now, take the guy’s cock in his mouth and give him the best blowjob of his life with everyone watching. His tone turns flirty, suggestive. 

He’s never done this before. He doesn’t even know the guy’s name. His gut says  _ run _ , but he ignores it.

“Perhaps,” the guy says. He leans closer, curls a finger under Sam’s chin. “My name is George,” he says, and Sam is  _ gone,  _ staring into George’s eyes as he leans closer to nibble on Sam’s neck. “But you can call me  _ King. _ ” There’s a sharp pain for a second, like a needle piercing his skin, before his eyes start to fall shut. His mind sluggishly issues a warning -  _ not good not good wake up - _ but it’s too late. 

The last thing he remembers seeing is the blood - his blood - dripping down George’s chin. 

And then black.

**

The King gazes at his prize triumphantly. His guards watch him guardedly. 

“Oh, lighten up,” he says with a scoff, turning to the front of the car. It continues driving, taking them back to the Train station. His guards shift a little, warily. He smiles and runs a hand through his prize’s hair, looks up when one of the guards nudges him with a scowl. He lets go, reluctantly, and pouts, crosses his arms over his chest. They’re almost back to the Train, and the King has no intention of making a break for it. It’s  _ his  _ Train, after all, and he knows it’ll return to him eventually. Thomas Jefferson be damned. So he sticks his tongue out, bounces his leg. 

“Stop that,” the lizard one says. 

“You’re no fun,” he says. Nudges his prize with his toe, lets a smile grow slowly across his face, unnerving everyone around him. “But this will be,” he purrs. 


	2. burr&laurens, pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> laurens and burr meet. there is pain. ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for [pennylehane](http://pennylehane.tumblr.com/)

Aaron’s on his way to visit Theo when he hears it. A flutter - wings, maybe? He tenses, because beings he doesn’t know only want one thing from him, and it takes a lot out of him to give. His body starts to solidify - dark skin, puffy hair. Purple suit. Aaron looks down at himself in disbelief. He’s never turned into Thomas before.

He supposes there’s a first time for everything. 

“Aaron Burr.”

There’s no malice in the being’s speech, just curiosity and a little bit of… nervousness? 

Aaron turns, faces the being. “Who are you?” It’s strange, to hear his voice develop the same barely-there Southern lilt Thomas has, raising in pitch. More nasal. He never expected to turn into Thomas, besides maybe if he ever met Madison - and there’s someone he’s become many, many times before. 

“John Laurens,” the being says. “Angel.” His face twists a bit, before he adds, “fallen.”

“Well,” Aaron says. “You were clearly looking for me. What can I do for you?” He tries for the shark-grin Thomas gives sometimes, when he knows he has a deal in the bag, but knows he fails by the smirk Laurens barely stifles. 

“You spend a lot of time around Thomas,” Laurens notes. “I used to know him. We were -” he hesitates. “I was curious. Who do you become, around him?”

Aaron wants to snort.  _ God. _ Who does he become around Thomas? It’s clear what answer Laurens wants, since Aaron turned into Thomas for him, and the way he paused -  _ we were - _ what, lovers? Friends? 

Unrequited love is always painful. It’s worse when Aaron has to be the one to tell them. 

“James Madison,” he says quickly, ripping off a bandaid, and watches as Laurens’ hopeful expression crumples in what seems like slow motion. “I’m sorry,” he says, as if it can fix the hole he likely just punched in Laurens’ heart. It’s fascinating, then, to see the range of emotions that crosses Laurens’ face. Shock, anger, grief, acceptance - and then all of it is gone. Sealed behind the emotionless mask as locks slam closed and doors slam shut. 

“James Madison,” Laurens repeats, blinks hard. “The human.”

“Yes.”

There’s silence, before Aaron ventures, “I have to go.”

“Of course.”

He almost makes it to the door.

“How often are you James Madison?” 

Aaron pauses, hand on the knob. “Sorry?”

“How often?” Laurens repeats. “His magic. It’s - it’s all over you.”

Aaron glances down at himself. He doesn’t see any magic - though granted, Laurens’ magic-seeing sight is probably better than his own. “Too often,” he says, heavy, and leaves the car. 

Laurens doesn’t stop him. 

The next time they see each other Aaron’s still carrying vestiges of James Madison, and Laurens is carrying a bent and broken feather.  _ A promise, _ Laurens tells him, frowning at it.  _ Looks like he didn’t want it. _

Aaron limps when he walks, and Laurens touches his shoulder. “Don’t heal me,” Aaron says. “He’ll only get angry.”

Laurens stops, conflicted. “Okay,” he says eventually, and backs down. There’s a look in his eyes. Knowing. Aaron wants to run from him, from Laurens and what Laurens knows about Thomas Jefferson. He doesn’t, though. Stays. He watches Laurens watch him longingly and wonders.

“I thought you banned non-human pets,” Laurens says casually to Thomas, later, brushes by Aaron - who had just come in and is just starting to look like a strange mixture of Thomas and Madison - on his way to the door. 

“I did,” Thomas responds. “You know why.”

Laurens turns, locks eyes with Aaron. They stand there at an impasse, both feeling time flow around them as they both try to communicate  _ something _ . “Yeah,” Laurens says. He still stares at Aaron, but his words are for Thomas. He echoes, “I know why.”

Laurens isn’t there when Thomas redacts the law outlawing non-human pets. 

Aaron never does find out why. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gimme more im living


	3. thomas/burr, when thomas promised to leave burr alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dubcon and manipulation. kind of. namecalling but it's not by thomas or burr.

Burr tries to push away, but Thomas pulls him closer, breathes into Burr’s skin, crushes them together on the bed. “It’s been awhile,” Thomas murmurs. His breath tickles Burr’s ear. His front is pressed to Burr’s back and his arm is lying heavy on Burr’s side and Burr’s never felt this trapped in his life.

“I wish it had been longer,” Burr replies bitterly, and abandons struggling in favor of urging Thomas onwards. At least that way it might end faster. 

“There’s a war coming,” Thomas says, as if he hadn’t heard him. He continues his movements, and Burr winces at the slip and slide of his dick inside him. “Will you fight by me?” He purrs. Burr’s tempted to say no, spit venom in Thomas’ face and use the advantage surprise would give him and run away. But he doesn’t. 

“What would you give me?” He asks instead, rolls his hips in a way he knows Thomas loves. Thomas’ eyes almost roll back in his head, but he says  _ name a price _ , voice even, like it’s just another deal, and Burr isn’t having that. 

“Don’t touch me again,” Burr says. 

“No.”

“Then tell me what you would give me.”

Thomas’ eyes darken. He smooths a hand down Burr’s chest, fists his dick. “Anything but that.”

“There’s a law,” Burr says. “You created it yourself.”

“You’re not my pet.”

“Then let me go.”

“No.”

Burr squirms, frustrated. “I hear King George found another pet,” he says. Conversational, like Thomas isn’t fucking him hard enough he’ll feel it when he walks, tomorrow. “Weak. Human.” He feels Thomas tense and knows he’s hit a nerve. Laurens always said the King terrified Thomas, so this - yeah. He can work with this. 

“Did he,” Thomas says. He’s got an edge to his voice, but there’s something else, too. Guilt? No, it can’t be that.

_ He fakes interest well  _ and shudders under Thomas’ hand  _ good little toy _ and Thomas swallows against a dry throat as images come unbidden to his mind  _ the King moans when Thomas whines, begs for more. It burns, somehow, like fire spreading across his skin everywhere he’s touched - “Cumdump. Slut.” _

“To bend over for the King -” Burr pauses, notices Thomas’ hand stop stroking him, feels the shiver. He decides to take a different path - not malice. “I’ve seen what he’s done. It’s not pretty, is it?”

“No,” Thomas agrees, this time emotionless as he continues, detached and cold when he touches, bites at Burr’s neck.  _ A mark of who owns him, a mark of who controls him. He belongs to the King. The bed shakes. Thomas bites back a scream, bares his neck further as the King continues to suck out his blood.  _

“I feel sorry for -”

“Stop talking.”

Burr shuts his jaw with a snap. He pushed it too far, anyway. Thomas never lets him talk that much. 

Thomas pulls out, pulls and pushes until Burr’s on his knees. Burr, knowing what he wants, swallows him down until he chokes, feels Thomas’ hand on the back of his head and when he tries to move back Thomas stops him. Thomas sets a rough pace, but Burr just loosens his jaw, breathes through his nose. Lets it happen.

Thomas finishes quickly. Inches towards the edge of the bed, away from Burr, who half wishes Thomas would have stayed, returned them to their previous position. He supposes post-coital cuddles are too much to ask, from a demon. “It’s a deal,” Thomas says abruptly. When Burr looks up - shocked, of course, he didn’t expect Thomas to agree - Thomas has his eyes squeezed shut, hand pinching the bridge of his nose. “I won’t touch you again, as long as you don’t side with him.”

Burr swallows, stands. “Okay. Okay, Do you normally - um -”

“Kiss on it,” Thomas says, and joins Burr, stands directly in front of him and grins, sharp. Cutting. “Yes.” He rests a hand on Burr’s cheek, pulls him in and pecks his lips. They linger there for a moment - both knowing this would be the last time. 

Burr expects Thomas to take advantage, deepen the kiss and use tongue, but he doesn’t. Just pulls back slowly, licks his lips. “Sealed.”

Burr watches Thomas saunter out of the room, but there are cracks now, in the sense of  _ presence  _ he gives off. Uncertainty.

Burr turns away. It doesn’t matter. He won’t see Thomas again. 

**Author's Note:**

> [the-girlnightwing](https://the-girlnightwing.tumblr.com/)


End file.
